Daughter
by Ash Veran
Summary: AU. Family ties stretch a long way. And family legacies stretch even longer. The problems start happening when everything is forgotten...  BEING REDONE! UPDATES WILL BE SPORADIC BUT IN MASS QUANTITY.
1. Death and Disaster

**Yes, I know, I've been gone forever. I've been having computer issues. What can I say?**

**Anyways, this is still my 'Daughter' AU. My muse has returned, though she is presenting herself differently. So bear with me as I begin again with Zara's tale.**

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><p>Zara woke when the ship rocked, sending her rolling out of her bed and onto the floor, into the wall. She cursed and jumped to her feet when the door slid open, one hand held out with her palm spread and the other holding a knife ready.<p>

"Whoa, whoa! It's just me!"

"Sorry, Trask, you startled me." Zara put her hands down. "What the hell is going on?"

"The Sith are attacking."

Her face was grim as she went to her footlocker, quickly dressing and putting on her armor—a motley collection of mismatched pieces, mostly Mandalorian, taken from dead bodies. She hung her weapons from her belt and stuffed everything left in her footlocker into her pack. Trask was already opening the door again and they hurried through.

"You'll have to slice this one." Trask said apologetically. "And we have to save Bastila."

"Bastila's long gone." Zara said harshly. "She'd've been on the first escape pod when the battle started going south." She didn't mention she'd swept the ship with her Force sense and found Bastila's 'scent' lacking. Of course, she wasn't going to alarm Trask unnecessarily by stating the other obvious possibility—Bastila was no longer alive. "It's ourselves we need to save now, so don't do anything stupid." Trask was a rookie, for sure.

Blasters echoed and Zara cursed as the soldier she could just see through the opening doors fell. Trask bolted out when the doors were open wide enough, shouting "For the Republic!"

She leaped out behind him, dodging blaster bolts or sending them sideways with just a touch of the Force. Her single vibroblade bit into one of the Sith's unprotected necks while Trask landed a shot that downed the other. She quickly looted the bodies and the duo moved onward.

Zara heard the buzzing and throbbing of a lightsaber battle before they opened the next door.

"It's a Dark Jedi!"

She rolled her eyes and bit back an acidic comment as the Jedi took the Sith down and then an explosion—the ship's systems failing—sent enough shrapnel into her for near-instant death.

Trask swore. "That was one of Bastila's Jedi. We coulda used her help."

Zara was already looting. "Yeah, well, that's not happening." She didn't touch the Sith's saber, but glanced quickly at Trask to make sure he didn't see her pocket the Jedi's green saber.

She sensed the two incoming soldiers and was on her feet and alert, but Trask wasn't. One of the Sith got in a headshot and she whipped her hand through the air, sending out a crushing concussive wave of the Force. Then she threw her vibroblade and the ignited lightsaber, impaling the Sith before calling the weapons back to her hand.

Zara decided that since the bridge would be overrun with Sith, it was probably best she keep the lightsaber ready.

She moved through the ship, easily reaching the starboard section with her deadly combination of the borrowed lightsaber and the Force.

"Well, well…"

She didn't even think when she heard the oily voice, using the Force to smash the door closed and separate her and the unknown Dark Jedi. Her lightsaber skills were a bit too rusty, she was fairly sure, to mess with the likes of him.

Her comm bleeped and she looked down at the tiny screen. "This is Carth Onasi. I'm tracking you through the life support system—you're the last one on the _Endar Spire_. Bastila's pod is away and I can't wait much longer."

"On my way, Captain."

The comm screen went black and she pushed forward. More Sith, more death, more taking from the bodies of the dead.

"Be careful." Carth's voice suddenly said. "There's a squad on the other side of the door."

"Thanks for the heads-up, Captain." Her eyes fell on an assault droid standing uselessly in the corner of the room she currently occupied. With a few seconds and spare parts, she opened the door and entered the thick of the squad with the droid.

The fight was pitifully short and she gathered anything that could possibly be useful. She went through the doors after hiding the lightsaber and saw Carth in the flesh.

"Just in time. Let's go."

He climbed into one of the escape pods and she followed, strapping herself securely to the crash webbing as they jetted away.

"This is gonna be a bumpy landing."

Zara flashed Carth a crooked grin. "I can handle a bumpy landing, Captain. Done plenty of 'em in my time."

She looked out the back window just in time to see the _Endar Spire_ explode into space dust.


	2. Ordinary

**So, this is how it's gonna go—I'll update sporadically, but it'll pry be more than one chapter at a time. Like I said, my computer access is limited. Anyways, I present you with chapter two!**

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><p>Carth grunted as he surveyed the wrecked pod. He'd managed to escape anything more than superficial cuts and scrapes (which still stung painfully) and crawled out of the wreckage.<p>

He checked on the woman. Her pulse was steady but on the weak side and she had a nasty bump on her head, not to mention a very bloody jumpsuit. He carefully extricated her from the wreckage and slung a limp arm around his shoulder, bracing his other arm around her waist. This way, he hoped, they'd look more like buddies who'd had a few too many rather than crashed Republic soldiers.

He spotted a nervous-looking Twi'lek and decided to follow. His decision found them an ill-maintained apartment building. It only took a few minutes to find and slice a door with a suitably grimy lock.

He stripped the dusty top sheet off the lone bed before gently laying the woman on it. She moaned, but was still. He gave her a visual inspection—her mechanic's jumpsuit had no tears or burns to indicate an injury. He ran his hands over her arms and legs, however, checking for soft spots or odd bumps.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

Her head appeared to be her only injury. The blood on her jumpsuit wasn't hers.

"Well," he spoke aloud, organizing his thoughts, "are you a soldier? That's certainly what your survival tells me. Though those oil stains say otherwise." Her jumpsuit did have some oil stains. "Though it might be you do a mechanic's work for fun."

Yes, that certainly made sense, though he didn't know who would fix ships and droids for fun. She was probably one of Bastila's lightsaber-free elite who never really seemed to have a schedule. He pulled out the datapad with the crew manifest and files.

She would be easy to recognize. He'd seen her rich purple eyes, unusual for any race. Her black hair, plaited neatly, drew attention to high cheekbones and a distinctive brow. Hard to miss, really.

To his surprise, he didn't find her among Bastila's elite. Or even among the regular soldiers. He found her in the mechanic's list, stationed at bay six. Zara Nixie.

Her file was thin, more like a collection of only the most bare-bones facts. Her height, weight, other physical characteristics. There was a note about her being a soldier during the Mandalorian Wars and a list of complaints from the head mechanic in the bay, mostly about how insubordinate and argumentative she was. At the very bottom of the page was an asterisk with a note about 'possible Jedi mother'.

He looked over at the form of the sleeping woman. "Not much of a record, Zara. Not even in the mandatory psych."

She whimpered and twisted a little before settling.


	3. Dreams before Waking

**Your chapter three. In which we return to Zara. **

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><p><em>Dark Jedi—my honor guard—fell one by one, their red sabers vanishing as Jedi blues, violets, greens, and golds felled them. A girl bearing a single golden saber stepped forward, leading the Jedi despite her youth, her gray eyes cool.<em>

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><p>"<em>This is your weapon, baby girl." My mother smiled at me, the lines around her eyes deepening. "So fill it with yourself."<em>

_I smiled but didn't break my concentration until the last piece clicked into place. "I know."_

"_I've taught you all I can. You're far greater in the Force than me, baby girl. It's time for you to find your destiny."_

_I pulled on my cloak, levitating the lightsaber into my pack. "I know, Mama. I got my orders today—I won't let the Mandalorians take over the Republic, not when I have power to stop them."_

_She kissed my forehead. "May the tides of life, the Force, be with you. And remember your codes."_

"_I won't forget. I'd never forget." I secured my cloak with the circular pin, picking up my pack. "Bye, Mama. I'll call you whenever I can."_

"_Trust your visions and keep your father secret."_

"_I will."_

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><p>Zara woke slowly, keeping her eyes closed as she probed the space around her cautiously with the Force. She slowly sat up when she sensed no threat, massaging a throbbing bump on her head.<p>

"Good. You're finally awake. I was starting to get worried."

"Carth Onasi, right?" Zara remembered that orange jacket.

He nodded. "You got a pretty nasty bump when we crashed."

"I guess I owe you one." She was sending waves of the healing Force into her head. "Thanks."

He scoffed. "I'd never leave a fellow soldier. And I'll need all the help I can get to find Bastila—Taris is a Sith planet."

"Taris? Ugh."

"You been here before?"

"Once was enough." She muttered. "Yes, I have. I served during the Mandalorian Wars—I was part of the force that kicked the Mandies off this planet. It was a cesspit then and's pry worse now."

"If by 'cesspit' you mean very segregated, bigoted, and hard to travel around, it's not gotten better."

"Yeah, well, I didn't expect it to get better. You're lucky it's me you got, Captain, and not some airbrained moron."

"Lucky, huh?" Carth said dryly.

"I know this planet. So, what was that about Bastila?"

"We have to find her and get her off the planet."

"That's a tall order."

He grimaced. "Tell me about it. The planet is quarantined and she's most likely in the Undercity, which we can't get to because you have to be a Sith to even hit the Lower City."

"Easily solved—we get some Sith armor. Wait, isn't the Undercity crawling with those rahkghoul things?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "I haven't been to this planet before. And they tend not to include nightmare monsters in the travel brochures."

"Ha-ha. So the princess might really need some help."

"And she'll be looked for. As long as we're careful, we can fly under the radar."

"Yeah, yeah, be a chameleon. Blend in. I've done this run a few times before, Captain. So, how are we looking financially?"

"I've got a few hundred credits."

"I've pry got six or seven hundred."

"Good enough." He said.

"And if we need too, dueling is an option. For me, anyways. You're a bit too well known."

"Gambling."

"Risky, but it really rakes in the creds." Zara agreed. "So, there a shop where I can sell some stuff? Looting only pays if you get your return."

"There's one across from the cantina."

"How's the 'fresher work?"

"The water's not warm, but it is clean."


	4. The Hunt Begins

**Chapter four, courtesy of me. Hold your applause. Yes, I know they're on the short side. But if you read my Identity fic, you might have noticed some of the earlier chapters were shorter.**

**Oh, and "italics" is an alien language—Huttese or Shyriiwook or what-have-you. And if anybody freaks out at the end, do remember that Zara is an adult—maybe not very responsible, but an adult.**

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><p>Zara pressed her back to the wall, hoping the Sith wouldn't notice her and Carth trying to sneak away. Then one of the Duros said something—she didn't quite catch it—and there was a blaster shot. "And that," a nasally voice sneered, "is how we deal with smarth-mouthed aliens."<p>

She threw her vibroblade before she could stop herself and shot the two droids at the unarmored neck. Ignoring Carth's soft groan, she walked up to the Duros.

"_I'm sorry about your friend_."

The green-skinned alien shrugged tiredly, offering her the hilt of her vibroblade. "_Ixgil never could be silent. But perhaps this will be the last Sith patrol to bother us_."

"_Perhaps_." Zara said skeptically, wiping her blade clean on the uniform of the dead Sith. She also relieved the body of its purse and started gutting the droids.

"_I will take care of the bodies_."

"_Thank you_."

The Duros merely nodded and began his task with the body of the human.

"Tell me, why were you just a mechanic?"

Zara sighed and finished with the droids before answering. "After the Mandalorians, I was sick and tired of dealing out death." She looked down at her hands. "Didn't plan on any more, but that didn't work so well. On the ship, I was more use as a mechanic anyways. Not like there was much to fight on that ship, unless you count those snooty Jedi."

"You had a choice?"

"Sort of. So, tell me about yourself."

"Well… uh… I've been a star pilot for years—"

"Hold it right there, flyboy. You're pretty famous. No need to tell me what I already know." They'd been walking a bit, fast enough that they were close to the shop.

"Pushy, aren't you." Carth muttered. "The shop's just down here."

"Don't think I'll drop the conversation so easily, flyboy." Zara cautioned before entering the shop. "I'm a tenacious little beast."

He sighed.

The cantina was buzzing and the smell of alcohol was relaxingly familiar. She could sense the alcohol-fuzzed minds and the occasional clear and sharp mind. "Shot of _tihaar_, if you've got it." She sat down at the bar, pulling out a few cred chips.

The bartender grunted. "Lucky for you, I do. Ten."

She slapped the chip down and he slid a glass full of the clear alcohol at her. She took the first sip slowly, savoring the fruity taste, before swallowing the rest of the shot. While Zara had very little good to say about the Mandalorians, they had good alcohol.

"Gutsy."

She flashed a grin, all teeth, at the speaker. "I can hold my alcohol."

"Loser pays the tab?"

"I hope you're prepared to pay up."

"Zara, we aren't here to get massively drunk." Carth hissed.

"Whatever, doll. Corellian whiskey alright?"

"Sure, boyo. Flyboy," she turned her attention to Carth, "place your bets on me, if you please."

The bartender looked between the two, sliding the first two shots across. "If you're rowdy drunks, you'll be thrown out in short order."

"Don't worry." Zara took a sip of the whiskey, smiling before knocking it back, "my new buddy will give you a very good tip."

"First to unconsciousness loses." He retorted.

Two more shots appeared. Zara raised hers. "To me, then."

Twelve shots later and Zara was feeling dizzy. The pilot was worse off, slumping forward. The next shot and thirty seconds sent him snoring.

"You part Wookiee?" The bartender asked.

"A merc." She gestured at her mismatched armor. "I've got a healing implant, but that fool never asked." She grabbed his purse. "So, how much does he owe you? And that was a very cheap Corellian whiskey, let me tell you."

"Six hundred."

Zara counted out the chips and then some. "I didn't forget the tip, courtesy of stupid." She stuffed the remaining credits in her own purse. The bartender raised a brow. "What?" She asked innocently. "He's just asking to get robbed if he's passed out at the bar. So, flyboy, what are the bet returns?"

"Doubled what I've got, which isn't bad."

"So," she whirled on the barstool, "how can we get to the Lower City? I've heard I'm more likely to find work there. Since I'm stuck here and all."

"Only Sith can travel through the levels of Taris. The elevators are all guarded."

"Ah. Thanks for the info. Ready to jet, flyboy? We need to check out other seedy apartment buildings."

"This is gonna be fun." He muttered.


	5. A Descent

**It's been awhile, I know. I have no excuse, really. But I present to you chapter five!**

**Disclaimer: This wouldn't really be Fanfiction if I owned it, would it?**

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><p>It had taken a few hours, Zara thought with a grin, but their search had yielded which swoop gangs to ask for help and two sets of Sith armor. Not to mentions various amounts of credits and other supplies.<p>

"Okay, flyboy, ready to hit the Lower City?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." He grumbled, his voice tinny from behind the helmet.

"Aw, no need to be so sour." Zara teased, obviously grinning. Then they rounded the corner and she was silent and serious, sensing out the Sith on guard. He was bored and lazy, too sure of the Sith's hold on the Upper City to be worried about someone civilian slipping past.

"Watch out in the Lower City." He said as they came close. "Those gangs are in the middle of some war and will take a shot at anybody."

"Good to know." Zara replied, projecting her voice so it was deeper and lower. "I knew we got sent on an _osik_ detail."

He shrugged. "Better you than me."

The elevator opened, Carth walking in steadily, Zara at his heels. "Thanks for the sympathy." She threw over her shoulder, the door closing as the elevator began a long descent.

Carth was the first to rip off his helmet. "This thing is hot." He complained irritably.

"Well, aren't you just in a mood?" Zara retorted, pulling off her own helmet. "It is hot, though. Hot and a bit sweaty for sure." She brushed a few stray locks of damp hair from her face, unpinning her plait from its bun. She continued stripping the armor off, sliding it into a pack she and Carth had brought for the purpose. "Alright, so how do we get into the Undercity? I'll bet my blades that the Sith are a lot better guards down there."

"I guess we'll figure it out."

Zara finished stripping the Sith armor and started putting her own motley collection of Mandalorian armor on. "Guess we'd better check out the gangs. Maybe one of them can help us."

He nodded. "I've been meaning to ask where you got your armor."

"The wars. I took a piece of Mandalorian armor from any Mando I killed whose armor would fit me." She waved her arms vaguely, gesturing to the mistmatched colors. "It was a sort of record of my prowess. The more experienced Mandos always went for me. Probably saved more than a few new recruits with my discblade and wan-shen."

"What?"

"The discblade is the weapon my mother's chosen people used and the wan-shen is what I made when I was done with some specialized training."

His eyes narrowed. "What aren't you telling me?"

"You're saying you don't have secrets? How about you tell me a bit about yourself, Captain? After all, you read my file."

"Wasn't that substantial." He retorted sourly. "But please, feel free to begin your interrogation."

"It was never going to be an interrogation, Captain!" She spat. "What's your issue? You're twice as paranoid as they come with a good dose of hairless Wookiee!"

"Getting snippy, are we?"

Zara's nostrils flared. "Alright, so what's your question, captain? What do you want to know so badly that's eating at you?"

"What's your perspective of the attack?"

She reared her head back, purple eyes blazing. "Think me a traitor, captain? Let me tell you my impressions – the Sith attacked us with the sole purpose of capturing Bastila and doing whatever the hell they felt like with the rest of us. You? You woulda been killed. Me? I woulda gotten a whole lot worse." Her hand clenched into a fist. "You can't anticipate everything, captain. You better get used to the fact that you aren't all all-powerful, that nobody is. Bad things happen and if they're in the past, what the hell do you expect to do about them?"

She went cold. "And if I'd been a traitor, why would I be here? I'd be in some cushy apartment, not bothering with this _osik_. I'm not a mercenary. I gave the Republic six years of my life when they'd left my people to rot on Yanibar. So don't tell me I'm a traitor."

"I never said you were." His voice was level. "But I'll be prepared for anything."

Her lip curved into a small, bitter smile. "Anything, huh? I hope that works out for you."

The elevator stopped and opened, blasterfire effectually cutting off the conversation. Zara pulled her two blades out, flourishing them expertly as she darted into the middle of the firefight. The gangers in orange and black opened fire and the yellow and teal ignored her.

Throat, limb, parry. Low spin kick, high roundhouse, harden skin against shock stick. She lost herself in the dance of battle, cooling her rage into useful precision and speed.

Then it was over and she was aware of blood on her clothes. _What?_ a little voice said, _there shouldn't be blood_. One of the still-standing blue-and-yellows came up to her.

"_I've never seen moves like that_."

"And you probably won't again."

He removed a cord from his neck. "_If you ever need help from Gadon of the Beks, just show this at the door_." The cord had a token.

Zara took the cord, looping it around her own neck. "Thanks. I'll come by sometime."

The Twi'lek grinned. "_And if you ever want a drink…_"

She threw back her head and laughed. "You don't want to start buying me drinks. I drink like a Wookiee… a full-grown one. But it's a kind offer. Though if you wouldn't mind pointing me to the cantina…"

"_Just down that way_."

Zara nodded and waved, walking quickly. She took a rag from the back of her belt, cleaning off her blades, ignoring Carth tailing her.

The cantina was dark and smoky, the lighting low. She went straight for the bar. "Tihaar if you have it. A bottle."

The bartender's eyes widened, but he produced a good-sized bottle. "Hundred credits."

Zara slid them on the bar without complaint, taking the bottle and opening it for a good-sized gulp.

"I thought only Mandalorians drank tihaar."

"You're mangling the pronunciation horribly." Zara turned to rest her back against the bar and her elbows on it. "And how do you know I'm not Mandalorian?"

The Twi'lek, a Rutian teen, grinned. "Because if you were Mandalorian, I would have heard. If you want information, I'm the girl to go to."

"Get my young friend here her usual." She threw the words over her shoulder. "I'm good for it. Zara Nixie. I'm usually a mechanic, but this is an uncertain galaxy."

The girl's eyes lit up. "Nixie, huh? I recall hearing that name a few years ago."

"It's a big galaxy, kid. So, what's your name?"

"Mission Vao. My normal package includes a tour, but it's a bit too dangerous."

"So, Mission, tell me a bit about the Beks."

"They're one of the two big gangs down here and they're the good ones. Gadon Thek'll help anyone who asks. The Vulkars are the ones doing all the shooting down here."

"Black and orange, right?"

"Already had a run-in?"

Zara smirked. "They came out the worse for it."

"You have the look of a fighter."

"You've got no idea. What's up with this Davik fellow? His name's been thrown around plenty."

"He's a legitimate businessman, as far as anybody knows for sure, but he's connected with the Exchange. I even heard he's got a new ship, the _Ebon Hawk_."

"Where would it be kept?"

Mission raised a brow at Carth, but Zara gave her a tiny nod. "His estate. But it's locked up tight and the _Hawk_ would be locked up tighter than anything, seein' as rumor says the _Hawk_ could break the blockade."

"What a pity. Me an' him are looking to jet off. Taris ain't much of a planet to be stuck on. Anyways, kid, if you've got some place to go, don't let us keep you."

She nodded. "Yeah, this dive's pretty boring. Hey," gulped the last of her drink and yelled across the cantina, "Z, let's head out!"

Zara's head jerked up as she heard a Wookiee roar in reply. A moment later, Mission and the Wookiee were gone. She whistled before turning back to the bartender. "How much for the drink?"

"Fifteen." He muttered.

"What was it?"

"Water."

"Sheesh. I'm never coming here for a cheap vacation."

"Clean water's hard to get."

Zara sighed. "I'm not surprised." She slid the credits across the bar, standing up straight. "Alright, Carth, ready to go see the Beks?"

He shrugged, which she took as a yes.


	6. A Filthy City

**Chapter six! I'm so very proud!**

**Disclaimer: I'd be a lot richer if I owned KOTOR, but I'm not and I don't.**

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><p>Zara wrinkled her nose as she took in the stench of the Undercity. There was a reek of rot and sickness, poison and human filth. Her skin was goosebumped with her awareness of the area, with minds clinging to humanity and slipping crazily at the very edge of her consciousness. She remembered the name as soon as she recognized the presence.<p>

"The rakghouls are still here."

"Rakghouls?"

"Count yourself unlucky. You're about to meet creatures created by impure minds for the sole purpose of destruction. Don't get bitten. Don't get scratched."

"What are they?"

"You'll see them soon enough."

Briefly, Zara wondered if the Mandalorian she'd encountered had been to the Undercity and how he'd fared. Probably and well. He was an Ordo, renowned for their fearlessness and tactics.

"This way."

"How do you know?"

Zara shrugged. "Sooner or later, we'll hit a gate. I doubt a large settlement could survive down here, even with well-protected gates. There simply aren't enough resources and the last thing you want to eat is rahkghoul."

"What's a rahkghoul?"

"Nothing you ever want to see, but you're going to anyways. Deadly, dangerous creatures."

"You're being vague."

Zara was silent, walking to where she sensed the rahkghouls. Her shoulders were tense and her steps were reluctant.

"You there, savior!"

She wheeled, facing the old man. His eyes were milky with age, his body whip-thin with prominent veins and deep wrinkles. "Me? A savior?" She laughed bitterly. "I'm anything but."

The old man shook his head and Zara sensed a glimmer of the Force in him, dimmed by age and physical weakness. "You are." He insisted, strongly and surely. That glimmer of the Force flared strongly for a moment, surely. "You will lead us to the promised land!"

A surge of compassion compelled her to kneel. "I have a feeling my destiny lies elsewhere, wise one." On another planet, he would have been taken to become a Jedi. "But I will do what I can."

The elder nodded, as if he'd expected nothing less. "My apprentice, Mayla, has gone missing. If you could find her and her journal, as well as the journals of my father and grandfather, I know there will be enough clues for me to find the Promised Land, where we will be safe from sickness and persecution and the wretched rahkghoul plague!"

Zara swallowed. "I'll bring you those journals."

His hand reached up quickly, despite the trembling of age, and touched her eyelids. He murmured something, perhaps a blessing, and leaned back, apparently satisfied. "The gate lies north. There are rumors of a serum to cure the rahkghoul plague, though I do not know if these rumors are true. I believe the journals are close."

She touched her forehead, then clavicle in a traditional sign of respect. "Thank you, wise one." Carth's surprise was palpable as she rose from her kneeling position, more sober than before. She headed straight north, her lips pressed into a thin line.

There was a commotion by the gate. Zara sensed it before she saw it and took off running, leaping to the roof of a crude structure before jumping powerfully, over the high fence, among the rahkghouls chasing some man. Her twin vibros were out blindingly fast, silver arcs as she shore through the corpse-white flesh of the monsters. Green-black blood, stinking of rot even stronger than the rahkghouls themselves, made her gag a little as she turned, trotting for the gate. She didn't look back as she trotted for the gate, nor did she clean her blades.

"Thank you!" The woman at the gate sobbed, hugging the man.

"It was no trouble." Zara's lip curled. "I would've had to deal with those creatures sooner or later. Carth, you coming?"

Shocked silent, he followed, keeping a wary eye out for the corpse-white flashes that would identify a rahkghoul. After a few moments of silence, someone broke it.

"You're dying to ask me." Zara said flatly. "Go ahead now."

"What did that old guy mean?"

"Elder." Zara corrected sharply. "And he meant that he saw that I could do what he asked, that I was young and strong and mostly light. That I would bring him the journals and be, in effect, the savior."

Carth nodded, obviously formulating the next question. "I've… I've never seen anyone other than a Jedi or a Sith jump like you did, before."

"I am a Force-user, trained in the ways of the Zeison Sha and Matukai, with some Jedi training from my mother. The Zeison Sha live on Yanibar, a planet too harsh for any but a Force-user to survive. Their telekinesis is unsurpassed among the Jedi and the Sith and their favored weapon, the discblade, exceedingly rare and nearly impossible to fight. The Matukai are nomads who will take only one or two apprentices in all their life. Matukai training focuses on using the Force—and a good deal of effort—to make your body into an extension of the Force, a most versatile weapon. Their signature weapon is the wan-shen. I lost both my discblade and wan-shen in the Mandalorian Wars, in a battle against clan Ordo. There was an exceedingly tough and clever young soldier. He managed to catch my discblade and ram it between the plates of his Basilisk, wedged so I could not call it back to myself. My wan-shen was battered to uselessness."

"Sounds like a warrior." He sounded like he didn't care too much for Mandalorians.

Zara shrugged. "His father offered to adopt me when I was captured. I declined and was gone the next morning."

"Mandalorian prisoners don't just escape." Carth said sourly.

"It was easy for me. They didn't realize I was a Force-user—they just thought I was an amazing warrior. Chains are nothing to me. Only a Force cage could hold me and even then, not for forever. I have a talent with anything mechanical that's hard to beat." Zara did not mention she'd slept with the warrior and escaped while he was dozing—Carth seemed the sort to harshly judge consorting with the enemy.

"And your discblade?"

"I always thought I would find it at the camp, but I never did." She shrugged. "And I simply never had the money or materials to make a new one. My second wan-shen was destroyed with the _Endar_ _Spire_. And the lightsaber my mother had given to me," just a bit of a lie, "was lost when some fool thought it was trash. Since I was going out of my way to avoid being noticed by Jedi, I never threw a fit or went hunting for it."

"You sound… colorful."

"Criminal? Yeah, I did do a few years of smuggling. Nothing like a touch of the Force in negotiations." She didn't mention she'd smuggled slaves to safe worlds like Yanibar if they had the Force or to places like Dantooine if they were younger and Nar Shaddaa if they were able to survive. She hated slavery with a passion.

"Ah." He sounded discomfited.

She smirked a little. Mister Carth Onasi was as straight an arrow as the Republic came, honest to a fault but wily if he had to be. Then she sensed something, an object smudged with the Force so it could be found. She veered accordingly and soon enough came upon a pile of well-chewed bones and a spat-out canvas bag.

"Those are human bones."

"Rahkghouls eat humans." Zara said callously, lifting the bag with her telekinesis and dumping out all the objects. She found a cloth-wrapped journal in very good shape and tucked it in her back. "And I think we just found the remains of Mayla." She pressed her lips together. "If we had time, or if it was safe, I'd say burn her bones. But we don't."

Carth grimaced. "The awful truth. What's this?"

He handed her a small vial, marked with a shorthand in Rodese. The scientist had probably been paranoid, but she could read Rodese. "I can't be certain, but given the location, I'd say that it's the rahkghoul serum the elder told us about." She tucked it in her belt. "I hope their healer can synthesize it."

"I hope we don't have to test it."

Zara pressed her lips together. "I hope not. But I have a pretty good grasp of Force healing. I think that I could burn the virus down enough for your immune system to take care of the rest, but I don't want to test that either."

"Agreed."


	7. Old Friends

**Chapter Seven. Well, it had to happen sooner or later.**

**Disclaimer: I'm a college student, not George Lucas.**

* * *

><p>Zara was wary and alert, so she wasn't surprised when a slim blue figure materialized out of nowhere and crashed into her, sobbing wildly. "You've got to help me!" Mission Vao bawled, her face buried in Zara's shoulder.<p>

Zara rubbed the girl's back, carefully avoiding touching the lekku. "Alright, I'll do my best." She soothed. "What do you need help with? You're going to have to calm down so you can tell me."

Mission shuddered, pulling away, and began to speak rapidly. She reverted to Ryl at a few points, her lekku waving wildly.

"Alright." Zara said when the girl finished speaking. She was, of course, fluent in Ryl and the 'language of the lekku'. She'd once faked being a Twi'lek, moving false lekku with the Force. "We'll help you find Zaalbar. But then I need a favor. Would you be willing to sneak me and Carth into the Vulkar base?"

Mission cocked her head, dark eyes suddenly gleaming with mischief. "I would."

"Alright, my dear girl, we've got a bit of work to do."

She blinked up. "Oh?"

"There are some people approaching." Zara said ambiguously. "We should talk to them."

Mission furrowed her brow and Carth rolled his eyes. "She just knows." He said, forestalling any questions.

Zara trotted forward, her keen eyes piercing the gloom. She laughed. "Well, if it isn't my favorite Mandalorian merc."

The Ordo narrowed his eyes. "Exactly how many Mandalorian mercs do you know?" He rumbled, oozing _threat_.

"Enough to know that you're from clan Ordo." She was close enough now to smirk at him. "And you've got my discblade."

His head jerked up and back. "So you're the one, eh?" His stone gray eyes gleamed. "Now I remember you. Never did get your name."

She shrugged. "So? Anyways, I want my discblade back."

"Maybe later, _copikla_." He retorted.

Zara tipped her head. "Cute, am I? Maybe I'll just take my discblade back and cut off your head while I'm doing it."

He tipped his head back and laughed harshly. "You've got spirit, _cyar'ika_."

Her eyes gleamed dangerously. "That's Zara Nixie of the Zeison Sha to you."

"Canderous of Ordo." His eyes gleamed. "Maybe a kiss?"

"A Keldabe kiss!" She spat back, tensing up as she sensed a pack of rahkgouls. "Long memory, short fuse. But, if you give me my discblade, the pack of rahkghouls trying to ambush us won't know what hit them." Her eyes locked onto his. "I'll kill them and your men," she said it scornfully, "won't even wet their pants."

He barked a laugh. "I'd like to see you try." All the same, he took something from his thin pack and tossed it too her.

She caught it unerringly, smiling at the weight and heft of her discblade. It was still imbued with the Force, an object so saturated with the Force it could resist a direct lightsaber hit. It was also imprinted with her specific Force signature. She expertly twisted it in her grasp and turned, flicking her wrist out so it spun through the air in a silvery blur.

Her lips curled in a half-smile as she sensed her discblade tear through flesh, turning the attention of the rahkghouls entirely on her. She walked forward, shoulders set and a smirk on her lips.

The discblade returned to her upraised hand and she stuck it in the ground, setting her feet and cocking her fists, closing her eyes. The rahkghouls were confused enough to approach her cautiously, bloodlust and insanity held in check by fear.

She lashed out with her fists and feet, crushing the skull and ribcage of a rahkghoul in two blows. The toe knife in her boot ripped one up the belly and a double-fist sent the skull spattering back. She spun in a circle, her discblade in one hand, cutting the last three rahkghouls to ribbons.

Her shoulders remained high and proud as she walked back to Canderous and her two companions, eyes half-lidded. "Got anything to say?"

The Mandalorian grinned. "What _buir_ said. _Mandokarla_."

She batted her eyes. "I've always had the right stuff. Flyboy, Mish, ready to head out?"

"If you're checking out those escape pods, they've been stripped clean."

"Don't worry about me, Mando. I've got bigger fish to fry."

A slow smile spread across his lips. It was a scary look on his grim face, broad shoulders, and two-plus meters of height. "I'll keep an eye out for interesting news, _cyar'ika_."

"You oughta." Her eyes clouded over for a brief second.

* * *

><p>"<em>We have a deal?" There was the buzz of the cantina, the smell of alcohol.<em>

_Her head cocked, lips pulling into a smile. "Yeah, we do." She raised her glass, downing the tihaar he'd thrust at her. The deal was sealed._

* * *

><p>"Yes…" she murmured, "we'll see each other again."<p>

His permacrete eyes glittered with curiosity, but he didn't ask before disappearing into the gloom. Zara shook her head, braid swaying, and walked forward.

"Which way was it to the sewers, Mish?"

The teen ran up to take the lead, pressing her lips together as if that would keep her questions from bursting out.

* * *

><p>"I can handle the lock." Mission said.<p>

Zara smirked. "I can too, kiddo. But feel free."

Mission fiddled with the door for several moments and the lock sprang open. Zaalbar exited cautiously, enveloping Mission in a hug.

"_Who are these people?_"

"I am Zara Nixie of the Zeison Sha, taught by the Matukai. My companion," she gestured to Carth, "is Carth Onasi."

"_I thank you for helping Mission free me._"

"It was no trouble, young Zaalbar." He was young, perhaps fifty or sixty years.

One furry brow rose. "_You know much of my people_."

"I enjoy being able to travel alone. And to do so, I must be knowledgeable. And I've always had a talent for languages."

"_Then you would know what a life-debt it_."

Zara shook her head. "My service did you a good, but not that much a good. Mission would have freed you one way or another."

"_You saved me from slavery. That is worth a life-debt._" Zaalbar rumbled.


	8. Memories Unknown, Sparked

**Chapter eight, now. **

**Disclaimer: I can only dream of owning KOTOR.**

* * *

><p>"So, you know how to get rid of this thing?" Zara stared at the glimmering violet forcefield. She was powerful in the Force, but she wasn't interested in ripping out the forcefield. That would take too much effort.<p>

Mission nodded, grinning. "I'm the only non-Vulkar who has the codes to take this thing down. I got them from a Vulkar doing a bit too much bragging at the bar."

Zara nodded approvingly. "Alright, kid, you've got some brass. I like that. And you've got ambition and initiative."

She smirked. "Yeah. Though I don't know why they put the forcefield in with the rancor."

"A rancor?" Well, her premonition was right.

The teen looked sheepish. "It's been in there awhile. Real big right now."

"A rancor?"

"Oh, Carth," Zara laughed, "a rancor is no trouble to me."

"A rancor, no trouble?" Mission's brown eyes narrowed. "What are you?"

Zara shrugged. "Remember the rahkghouls?" Mission shuddered. It'd taken the better part of an hour to convince the teen she was fine. "Hardly anything is powerful enough to be my equal in a one-on-one fight."

"_Anything_?" Zaalbar roared.

"Do not worry—I am honorable. And I do not plan to kill the rancor unless I must. I suspect the Vulkars will push my buttons, however." Zara shrugged. "They may not be so lucky."

"Lucky?"

"I will explain later. This is not a good place. Too many echoes. Anyone could accidently hear information I do not want to become public." She tipped her head and started walking. "Which reminds me—I'll have to teach you all about shielding your minds. It's very useful training."

Her fast pace stopped any more questions.

* * *

><p>"The rancor is behind here." Mission's bright blue skin was a few shades paler under the layer of dirt.<p>

"I know." She could sense the creature—its will was weak, having had nothing to oppose in its long years underground, being fed rahkghouls, unfortunates who wandered by, and Vulkar prisoners. Probably 'useless' slaves and incompetent members as well.

Zara opened the door and walked into a massive, high-ceilinged chamber. The rancor noticed her immediately and started lumbering her way as she knelt. She drew upon the Force, fighting for dominance of the creature's mind. Even a weak-willed rancor was still strong. Once she had a grasp, she stood and walked forward.

"Go." She ordered, loud enough for them to hear. Warily, her trio of companions entered the room. She had one hand on the rancor's lowered muzzle, one with two fingers on her temple. "Faster. I cannot keep control forever." She could handle the rancor for a few more minutes, maybe fifteen if she had to. But the sooner she was able to let go of the rancor's mind, the more power she would have in reserve and the faster she would recuperate.

Then they were safe—well, sort of—fighting the Vulkar doorguards. Mission, when Zara risked a look, had the door open in a trice. "Come on!" Mission yelled.

Zara let go of the rancor's mind, leaping off the ground with the Force as her aid. She covered the ground to the protected area in a single bound, dropping to her knees for a moment.

"What did you do?" Mission whispered.

She held up her hand. "That… that took effort. More than I thought." Her head had a low-level throb, something that had nothing to do with the rancor, she sensed. "And there's something wrong in my head. I don't know wha—" she trailed off into a pained half-scream.

_Zara, Zara, Zara… a rough voice, something suppressed._

"_Zara, my sister," I didn't know the voice that interrupted my fever dreams, "Zara, you're safe now. Her hands were gentle as she put a cloth on my forehead._

"_Is she awake, Rach?"_

"_Fever awake, Mereel." _

_He wasn't bad, I knew he wasn't, just like that other Mandalorian. It was those, the savage dar'manda, that were bad._

"_I'm gone, Zara."_

"_MOTHER!"_

"_Help me, Zara. Avenge_ _me."_

"_Half-siblings?"_

_A wry smile and purple eyes identical to my own. "Surely you don't think our father had children with only one woman, had only one lover?"_

"AHHHHH!" Zara ripped herself out of the shattered vision-memory, stopping herself from falling unconscious.

"Zara?" Mission asked. "What's wrong?"

Zara shook her head ferociously and got to her feet. "I don't know, but I'm going to find out." She would keep her siblings out of it. Her father was her secret, her half-brother and half-sister's secret. She would only tell if they all agreed and they weren't here to agree. "Just… just something off."

"Alright." Mission grumbled. "You can explain everything later."

"I will when the time and place are right." Zara stepped through the door. "But hold onto these, will you?" Zara handed her the journals she'd recovered. "If something happens to me, see that those get to Rukil of the Undercity."

"Do you think something is going to happen?" Mission asked.

Zara shrugged. "If something does, it does."


	9. Past and Present

**Nine! Nine! Hip-hip-hooray! **

**Or whatever. We'll be off Taris soon enough. **

**Disclaimer: Last time I checked, I wasn't George Lucas.**

* * *

><p>"Carth, Mission, Zaalbar, I want you to find the security center. Erase any and all footage of us. Short out the cameras and cut them down—I don't care. But I don't want a shred of video evidence left on this base."<p>

"We can't leave you." Mission said stubbornly.

"I can take care of myself." Zara spun the dual vibroblade in her right hand. "You go. Carth's in charge."

Mission looked like she wanted to protest—Zaalbar as well—but Carth sighed. "She can take better care of herself alone than all three of us together. And this way we spend less time here."

Mission's shoulders slumped. "Fine." She grumbled.

Zaalbar opened his mouth, but Zara cut him off. "I want you with Mission and Carth, alright? They need a blade fighter should it come to close quarters." The Wookiee had a massive blade to go with his bowcaster.

"_As you wish_." He finally rumbled.

"Thank you."

They left and Zara breathed a sigh of relief. She freed her single vibroblade from the magnetic clip that kept it at her belt and waited for their presences to fade.

It only took a moment and she closed her eyes to walk forward. She could sense the approaching danger, danger that she was sure meant Gadon's prototype accelerator. The door she finally settled on looked innocuous enough, but the sense of danger behind it was pushing at her brain.

She swept her hand at the door imperiously and it opened, revealing two Twi'leks of obvious rank and a few guards.

"_Well, well, well… who do we have here_?" The male Twi'lek asked, his lekku twitching a little.

Zara held her single-sided blade braced in front of her horizontally, the double gripped lightly, angled at her side, held a little lower. "Me, of course." Her lips were curled in a deadly smile. "I've come for the accelerator you stole."

"_Can I kill her, Kadon_?" The female purred, batting her eyes flirtatiously at the male.

"_Not yet, darling_." He purred back before addressing me. "_Are you sure you wouldn't prefer the Black Vulkars? The Beks are on the losing side_."

"Pretty sure."

The male shrugged. "_Your loss, human. You can kill her_."

His girlfriend whipped out her blaster pistols. Zara just smirked. Twisting her wrists, she brought up her vibroblades to block the blaster bolts. She'd spent a little time imbuing them with the Force, enough to ward off a few blaster bolts.

Then she threw her vibroblade, guiding it with her insticts. The Twi'lek woman was impaled through the throat, the force of the flying sword sending her back into the wall and pinning her. "You still have a chance to run." Zara said softly. She was pure deadly. The blood spurting from the Twi'lek woman's vital arteries—granting a quick death—was proof of that.

Kadon bared his teeth—filed to sharp points—and started shooting.

Zara sighed.

* * *

><p>Gadon smiled. "Excellent!" his silvered eyes moved aimlessly. "And I've decided to let you race with the prototype."<p>

"Gadon!" Zaerdra cried.

Zara chuckled. "Can't have one of your best riders exploding, I suppose? You weren't able to reach the testing phase, were you?"

He shrugged. "You've only got a few runs at most."

"I'll manage." She looked at her hands, covered in sewer grime, blood, and rahkghoul brain. "You got a problem with us sticking around in your base tonight?"

"Rooms have been prepared. I imagine you'll want to use the refresher."

"Definitely." Zara murmured.

"Mission knows where the guest suite is."

Zara didn't sleep. She meditated, moving silently through Matukai katas. The meditation was more restful than it appeared, each flowing dip of her hands or spun on her toe smooth and graceful. It was almost like sleep, her supreme control over her body allowing her well-trained mind to fall into a sleep-like state.

"Zara?"

She automatically stopped, forcing her eyes open at Mission's groggy voice. "Is something wrong, Mish?"

The girl yawned, sitting up. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I am. Matukai meditation is as good as sleep." Zara pressed a gentle hand to the girl's temple. "You need sleep, child." The minute application of the Force sent the girl into the deepest sleep. Zara smiled at the teen, resuming her meditations.

"What did you do?"

Tried to resume. This time she kept her eyes shut and continued flowing through the katas. "She needs sleep, Carth. Girl like her gets precious little of it."

"Girl like her?"

"An orphan." A sharp movement of her hand. "While living on Yanibar isn't easy, no child is an orphan. No child is an orphan. We are raised by whatever parents we have and the community." Her lips curved into a soft smile. "We go hungry together, we get fat together. We all learn the same survival skills. The children with the Force are trained." Her smile turned into a smirk. "The Zeison Sha have unmatched telekinesis skills. And the Matukai masters have incredible control of their bodies."

"I noticed. Your hand wasn't even bruised."

"Rahkghouls have soft skulls." She shrugged. "And I learned quickly. Matukai training takes many years, sometimes even decades, but I did it in four years. Mastery is a subjective thing in the Matukai and unheard of in the way of the Zeison Sha. There were only the initiates and the warriors."

"Sounds nice."

"It is." Zara said softly. "And we of the Zeison Sha are the toughest bunch anywhere. We care about each other." Her eyes were proud. "We are independent, self-reliant. We are beholden to none."

"Very proud, your people."

"Yes. We have to be. We survived on Yanibar. But we are also kind to the honorable. Generosity is never wasted."

"The Mandalorians come to Yanibar?"

Zara chuckled. "They did. But they left." Her smile was shark-like, just a glimmer of white teeth.

"The Mandalorians left." He sounded skeptical.

"The Mandorians are tough." Her hand flashed out, her leg sweeping through the air. "But they don't know Yanibar very well. They'd never encountered telekinetics like us. Even those who the Jedi," she spat the word, "would have deemed weak had the ability to lift boulders, they were trouble. Even the babies were trouble. On Yanibar, babies know when to not cry. Toddlers can hide. Children can make boulders move. Teenagers, the initiates, know how to throw discblades that can cut through armor and are impervious to blasters." Powered punch. "And then there were the warriors, who could bend the landscape to their will."

"So they didn't stay long."

"No. They didn't stay long at all."

"Where do you know Canderous from?"

"He was fifteen on Yanibar. Handsome, I suppose." Zara snorted. "A cocky young boy, but I had a vision of him. I saw his face older." She chuckled. "After I chucked a rock at him, slightly before the other kids sent him off."

"That makes no sense."

She shrugged. "I was a tricker. I was part of the gang that angered them into separating, made them easy prey for us. Canderous was a smart one, though, and quick. He pinned me before I got him herded all the way. I saw him in a vision. Then I smirked and threw him a few meters. Startled him like nothing else. I met him again, years later, on Dxun. He didn't remember me, but I remembered him."

"He was the Mandalorian you escaped from."

Zara shrugged. "He was." Purple eyes flashed in her mind, next to green ones. "But he wasn't too bad. Kind, in a Mandalorian way." She shook her head, shaking away something niggling at one corner of her mind. "Now go to sleep, Carth. You'll need your rest too."

"And you don't?"

"I'll be plenty rested." Zara said. "Do I have to put you to sleep too? Haven't I earned just a little trust?"

Carth grunted, but didn't make another sound.


	10. A Race Won, a Deal Struck

**Ten. Hooray. Or whatever. We'll be off Taris soon enough. **

**Disclaimer: Nope, not getting KOTOR for Christmas.**

* * *

><p>Zara reveled in the chaotic atmosphere of the track. The muddle of emotions was at once confusing and energizing, setting every one of her nerves on high alert as she pulled at the skintight leather racing gear. Only her discblade rested on her back, as easily as the vibros and blasters the other riders had.<p>

She thanked the Ithorian mechanic and headed for the Rodian at the desk. Flexing her hands on the swoop's handlebars while she waited for the lights to turn green, she spent a moment sharpening her mind. There was no harm in her having her mind sharp.

She went easy. Zara didn't remember ever swoop racing, but her reflexes and instincts were finely tuned. And racing the swoop felt familiar.

"_I haven't seen anybody race like that in twenty_ _years_!" The Ithorian gushed upon her return to the pit.

She smiled a little. "Well, I'm like nothing you've ever seen, then."

She watched the board, knowing that her time was likely to be beaten. She wanted to see the margin. One racer ended up getting a second faster, sneering at her as she passed.

Zara merely smiled and went to register for another race.

It was easier, the second time, gliding gracefully along, hitting the accelerator pads and making the engine whine with strain. It was thrilling to cross the finish line, sliding to an easy stop. Her ears pounded with adrenaline, throbbing to the wild screams of the ecstatic crowd.

She could sense the insane energy, taste the rage of the Vulkars who knew they'd lost. Her eyes drifted up to a man in purple armor, Calo Nord on his left and Canderous on his right.

"You don't want to cheat me, Brejik." Zara allowed herself to sink into a well of calm, preparing. "I dislike being cheated." She was ready to smash his skill into tiny bits.

"Kill her!"

Zara didn't hesitate, slamming two Vulkars to the ground with deadly kicks, catching the vibroblade that came down towards her shoulder and snapping it, thrusting the point through armor and flesh before swinging a wicked right hook at Brejik, shattering his skull with ease and toppling him.

Bastila broke out of the cage, snagging a double vibroblade and neatly decapitating two Vulkars. Zara kicked in the skull of the last one, blood and brains spattering.

"And who are you?"

Zara sneered a little. "Zara Nixie the mechanic, at your service." She knocked the blade aside contemptuously. "Back off, Lady Jedi. I'm with Carth Onasi."

The Jedi relaxed. "Oh. Then we should go."

"After we clean up. You look like a prostitute and I've got blood on my hands."

Her blush was very bright. "Excuse me?"

"Unless you haven't noticed, Brejik had you dressed for the occasion." Zara smirked. "Never seen clothes like that, have you?"

The Jedi's flush heightened. "I—you…"

"I have a place we can go." Zara went to the bench, taking the cloak she'd worn to the track over her tight leather and handed it to the Jedi girl, who looked to be barely into her twenties. "So put the cloak on and make sure your face is shaded." Zara raked her hair back. "Let's get out of here. I don't feel like killing any fools who decide that taking a shot at us is worth it." Zara pulled Bastila's lightsaber from Brejik's belt. "And try not to lose this. I know you Jedi stake your lives on these toys."

"Toy?!" She spat indignantly.

"Stow the temper, princess. It'll do you no good here." Zara beckoned, a quick little jab of her fingers through the air. "Let's go."

Bastila glowered, but followed. Zara led her on a twisting dance through the Lower City, sticking to the sleaziest alleys and streets. It was safer than the streets that would be patrolled by Vulkars out for blood. While Zata knew that her and him would easily take them, she felt no need to bloody her hands further for the day.

Gadon was amiable when they came in, though Zaerdra was on the ferocious side. Obviously, she was a bit disturbed by what Zara had done to Brejik and his Vulkars with just her hands.

"My friend needs some decent clothes and I need a shower."

"Of course." His sightless eyes seemed unusually keen. "How did you manage that?"

"I've had some bioengineering done." Her eyes were hooded. "I'm a little stronger than most."

"A little?" Zaerdra snarled. "You smashed his head to nothing."

"That's the idea. Dead enemies don't come after you." Zara said unflappably. "And I don't have a problem with getting my hands dirty." She eyed her bloody fists. "Though I would like to wash it off."

"You remember where to go?"

"I never forget. I just felt it would be respectful to clear it through you. We'll be out of your way before you know it." Zara moved away. "Thanks for the hospitality."

"You won us the race. I wouldn't begrudge hospitality."

Zara nodded her acknowledgement and walked off, Bastila following.

* * *

><p>"People have nicknamed you."<p>

"Huh?"

"I was at the cantina, watching." Mission grinned at me. "They're calling you Zara the Skullsmasher."

"Zara the Skullsmasher?" Bastila scoffed. "How crude."

Zara shrugged. "What's done is done. And a good reputation never hurts."

"Good reputation?" Carth snapped. "Now everybody knows your face."

"We're not going to be here much longer." Her eyes narrowed. "And now people know what the Skullsmasher is capable of—people won't cross me without a very good reason. And I have a feeling Davik will be more interested in me, since I have a reputation. If anyone has a way off planet, it's him."

"You don't have a way off planet?" Bastila half-shrieked.

"Sorry if we've been busy saving your Jedi behind." Zara sniped. "There's only so much we can do in less than a week. Sorry if I got injured and needed a bit of time to recuperate. Sorry if you don't like my methods or my personality." She stepped into the Jedi's space, a little intimidating. "And Skullsmasher isn't the worst name I've carried, princess. So you can shove your attitude and command—you don't know anything about command. You're as green as they come." Her eyes were cold. "And you're one of those who sat back and watched the galaxy burn."

Bastila was white with shock at Zara's bitter outburst, breathing shallowly as she took a half-step back.

Zara sensed the fear and reared back, nostrils flaring. "Are you so frighted of me, Jedi?" She spat scornfully. "Am I so terrifying?"

Bastila's color returned. "I fear no one."

She snorted. "Sure, princess. I'm going out for a drink. Don't get seen—I'm sure the Sith know who you are." She picked up her cloak, shrouding her face and body with familiar ease, noting Bastila's shudder. "I'll try not to kill anyone while I'm out." She added, with a bite of acid to her tone.

She almost bowled over a Twi'lek who jumped back when he saw her. "You're the winner of the swoop race?"

"Who's asking?" She growled.

"Canderous Ordo. He's at the cantina."

Her lips spread into a smile. She gave the Twi'lek a tip, padding quietly through the lamplight streets of upper Taris, which were teeming with people. The suns had barely set. It was pleasant to be out, people parting seamlessly around her anonymous form.

The buzz of people at the cantina was welcoming. Conversation would be difficult to overhear, difficult to be eavesdropped on. She ignored Canderous, occupying a booth in the back corner, and went for the bar.

"_Drinks are back here, Skullsmasher_!" Canderous rumbled, loudly enough to be heard.

"Tihaar. Two bottles of your best." She said to the bartender.

He nodded a little, obviously recognizing her. She put her credits on the counter and uncorked one of the bottles.

"_I know you can hear me, Skullsmasher_."

She paused in lifting the bottle, looking around. "_Didn't see you_." She said across the room, her Mandalorian as smooth as his.

Canderous snorted as she slammed the bottles on the table in front of him. "_Didn't see me. You up for sharing?_"

"_They're both for me. My prize just gave me a headache._"

"_Why keep her, then?_"

"_I have my reasons, Mandalorian_." She gulped down some tihaar. "_And I'm curious as to why you want to talk to me_."

"_Because I want off this planet and you look like the woman to help me._"

"_I'm flattered_."

"_You should be_." He smirked. "_You're as good a fighter as you are a woman_."

"_Don't count on any more of that from me, boy. I rused you_."

"_Great ruse_." His eyes narrowed. "_The Sith have the launch codes at the base. You get them and I can get us close a fast ship_." He poured two glasses of tihaar. "_This is from my private stock_."

Zara sniffed the glass, smiling appreciatively. "_Good brew. The Ebon Hawk as fast as they say?_"

"_Every bit. And I know you have a pilot, Skullsmasher. We have a deal?_"

She cocked her head, grinning. "_Yeah, we do_." She downed the tihaar in a gulp and wiped her lips. "_I'll be at the Lower City by dawn tomorrow_."

"_You work fast_."

"_Not too fast_." She purred flirtatiously, rising. "_Anything I should know?_"

"_Janice Nall has a droid for you. Say I sent you and she'll hand it over_."

Zara nodded and waved her fingers, stowing the unopened bottle in her pack, holding the other by the neck as she walked out. There was no reason to involve the others, not yet.

She could feel the discblade on her back, heavy and imbued with the Force and wickedly sharp and dangerous.


	11. Evenings with Crime Lords

**Chapter 11. I suppose I should explain that I'm on break from college and breaks are going to be the primary posting time. It sucks, I'm sure, but whatever. So I think you'll deal with it.**

**Disclaimer: I didn't get KOTOR for Christmas. I put it on my list, and I sure didn't get it. Not even from Santa.**

* * *

><p>Teethree beeped behind her.<p>

"Yeah, you did good." She acknowledged cheerfully. "But I'm going into Davik's alone. Kinda what I do."

More beeping.

"Oh, puh-leeze. I've known droidspeak since I was little. And I'd bet my pazaak deck Mission gets it."

"Are you talking to the droid?" Bastila asked coolly, from her cross-legged position on the floor as she stepped in.

"Yep. The little fella's a good conversationalist." She smiled. "And I've got a little something to do—I'll be back in a day or so."

"Where are you going?" Carth growled.

"Oh, stuff the paranoia. It's annoying." Zara smiled. "And I will make you take an unscheduled nap if I gotta."

"Way to make him trust you." Mission muttered.

"Aw, don't be sad—maybe you can get Teethree to tell you what an adventure he had today. Toodles!"

* * *

><p>It was a relief to be back in the stink of the Lower City, the dim flickering lighting and shadowed corners. Canderous would be at the cantina, she knew. They'd look somewhat less suspicious meeting in different places. And cantinas were the place for shady business.<p>

"You're back soon."

"I work fast, like I said." Basic was good enough for this much seedier cantina.

"But not too fast." Canderous chortled. "No friends?"

"I work just fine alone. And you're a friend. Met you twice in war and once now, eh? Makes us something."

His brows furrowed. "I remember one time."

"You were younger the first time. I was this feisty creature from a planet by the name of Yanibar."

"I remember you now. You called a pack in after you chucked rocks at my head. And threw me a few meters further than you should have been able to." His eyes were narrow.

"It was war, vod."

"I sure hope you don't think of me as a brother."

Zara chuckled. "Quit leering. Let's get. I'd prefer to be close to off-planet when the Sith patrols come in and find most of the base dead and their prisoners escaped."

"You're an evil girl."

"I prefer ingenious."

Canderous gave her a Look as he stood. "I'm sure." He drawled.

* * *

><p>Davik eyed me curiously, Calo Nord dismissively.<p>

"Didn't know you worked with partners, Canderous." The bounty hunter said derisively.

Canderous growled. "You're not top kath hound yet, Calo."

"I can't have my two best men fighting." Davik said, a sort of gentle reprimand.

She smirked, introducing herself. "Zara Nixie. You might have seen me at the swoop opener."

Davik's gaze swiveled to her. "I did—your display afterwards was very impressive, I must admit." Then his eyes narrowed. "Zara the Skullsmasher, the people are calling you."

Zara's smirk toned down to a soft smile. "It's a very appropriate name."

"Bare-handed."

"It's a thing I do." She shrugged.

He stared at her hands. "Not even a bruise."

She rocked back on my heels. "I'll tell you a secret—I'm of the Zeison Sha, trained by the Matukai." Zara pulled the discblade from my back. "Until I can rebuild a wan-shen, this is my primary weapon."

"Primitive." Calo scoffed.

Her pleasant smile was unnerving. "It would be. But I'm a Force-user." She held up a hand, forestalling questions. "I'm not a Jedi or a Sith. I just have the capability to do things that they can do."

Davik's eyes were suddenly very eager, greedy. "So, a mercenary with Force powers?"

"That's right." Her voice had some deadly softness to it.

Davik seemed to snap out of a daze. "Then we'll give you a tour."

"I'd be delighted."

* * *

><p>The opulent guest quarters were luxurious, for sure, but a prison. "I'm going to get a nice massage."<p>

Canderous's brow rose. "Oh?"

"Davik did ask me to dinner." Zara smiled at him. "And I certainly wouldn't mind an afternoon of pampering. I will have to wear a properly scandalous dress, after all. I prefer to be relaxed while doing such things."

"Don't we have something to do?"

"After dinner, Candy." Her violet eyes were distant. "He'll be off his guard."

"Don't call me 'Candy'." The Mandalorian rumbled.

"Make me." She sauntered out of the room, for her massage. She returned within an hour, scented with exotic oils, and went to the closet, riffling through the clothes stowed in it.

"He has had this room stocked with me in mind." She murmured, holding up a dress.

Canderous snorted. "He likes pretty women."

"I'm not surprised." She selected an outfit and pulled off her top, ignoring Canderous. "Rich men generally do, though I'm not sure he'll think me so pretty after dinner. I have some nasty scars." She pulled the new top on, the violet shimmersilk tight around her upper body. It was really little more than a bandeau.

"Skimpy."

Zara shrugged. "He's only gonna see me for an hour or two. I'll live." The skirt was of shimmersilk as well, layered like rose petals, long enough to drape to her ankles. "Ugh. I hate the skirt."

"And what exactly do you want me to do about it?"

"Nothing." She rolled her eyes. "Why would I expect you to do anything?" All the same, she pulled on the skirt before giving herself an inspection in the mirror. "I need sleeves." She rummaged through the closet further, eventually coming up with sleeves she could tie on. In black shimmersilk heavily embroidered with silver and violet, the laces twined from her elbow to her biceps while the upper edge of the sleeve was tight around her elbow before puffing out elegantly and then shrinking to tighten around her wrist.

"Interesting."

Zara shrugged. "It'll do." Her hand went to her stomach, stroking one of several long scars drawn across the skin.

Canderous eyed her. "How'd you get those?"

She tilted her head, biting her lip. "Don't tell Carth or Bastila or any of them," she said slowly, "but I'm not sure I know. There's something… not something wrong, exactly," Zara shook her head with aggravation, "but something isn't right." She waved her hands vaguely in the air. "I'm having visions that don't match up with my memories."

"Visions?"

"My mother was a Jedi. She left shortly before getting pregnant with me. She taught me some Jedi things, stuff the Zeison Sha and Matukai don't have the teaching of. It tells me that my memory is wrong, but something else is telling me they're right."

"So, the Jedi gave you fake memories." Canderous said dryly, obviously a sarcastic remark.

Zara pursed her lips. "They could have. Supposedly, just before they offered me a job, I was a smuggler who crashed my ship. That doesn't feel right. I smuggled when I was young, just after leaving Yanibar, before I joined the war. That's where my memories start to feel off, right after the bit where I join the war. Up to a few weeks after you, it feels right. And then it's not."

"Can't help you there."

Zara scowled. "I know. But it still makes me furious." She pinched her nose. "And there are very few people who would have the ability to reconstruct memories and even fewer that would have the patience to do so. The Jedi and the Sith. But the Sith wouldn't do this, not to send me to join the Republic. I'd easily disable any commands embedded in my memory subconsciously, if I got hurt and had to heal myself." Trinkets started lifting into the air, a subconscious display of her agitation. "And for the Jedi to do it… well, they'd have to have a very good reason. What possible reason could they have?"

"Not a clue." Canderous grunted. "You're making things fly."

"Oh." She flushed a little. "Right." The trinkets drifted back down to their places. She ran a hand through her hair. "And don't tell anyone about this little conversation. I'd be forced to do something rather irreversible."

"Oh?"

"Especially don't tell Bastila. She acts way too weird around me."

He nodded a bit. "That close shot got her face pretty well. She's scared of you—maybe even terrified."

"Most people," Zara said dryly, beginning to pull her hair back, "would be rightly scared of someone who smashes skulls with her bare hands when she looks no stronger than a bit of wire with human skin."

He chuckled. "True enough, Skullsmasher."

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><p><strong>Is it so terribly difficult to get a few reviews?<strong>


	12. Aboard the Ebon Hawk

**Chapter 12. I'm feeling like I'm going pretty fast.**

**Oh, and Zara's background. According to Wookieepedia, the Zeison Sha and Matukai don't come into being until _way_ after KOTOR. But in KOTOR2, they've got Zeison Sha _and_ Matukai armor. So I'm capitalizing on that discrepancy. **

**And yes, there's a lot of innuendo. This is rated T.**

**Disclaimer: I didn't get KOTOR for Christmas. I put it on my list, and I sure didn't get it. Not even from Santa.**

* * *

><p>"This is not cool!" Zara snarled, blocking out the cry of thousands—millions—<em>billions<em> dying as she shot down Sith starfighters. She could sense Mission, terror and despair and sadness welling up. Carth was all jagged jadedness and crystal focus. Bastila was barely coping, barely managing to help Carth with the hyperspace calculations. Zaalbar was roaring his overwhelming rage.

Zara focused on Canderous. He was used to this kind of ugly destruction. She was too, naturally, but she didn't have his insensitivity to the force. Manning the other turret, he was only focus. Focus without rage or pain, focus that wouldn't send her spiraling later.

They jerked into hyperspace and away from the proximity of the silent screaming. Zara steeled herself, climbing out of the cockpit. She had to comfort Mission. The kid was the only one who wouldn't be able to deal with the slaughter—as tough as the girl was, she hadn't seen such cruelty.

She pulled the girl into her arms, guiding her to one of the crew cabins, sitting both of them on a bunk. She let Mission cry on her shoulder, gently stroking the lekku and softly singing a lullaby.

Eventually the girl was soothed to sleep and Zara slipped away after pulling up a blanket. She steeled herself.

Crying wouldn't help.

"Is Mission alright?" Carth asked softly.

"She will be." Zara replied, sighing. "I'll make sure of it." Her fist clenched, nails digging into her palm. "I should have been able to do something."

Carth snorted, bitterly. "What? What could you have done against the Leviathan?"

She studied her hands. "Nothing." It was a bitter admittance. "I could have tried to rip it apart, but I would have failed. Malak has imbued this ship—had it saturated—with the Force. That's not a ship that will be easily destroyed."

"You can do that to a ship?"

She pulled her discblade out. "You can't sense it or see it, but this is my discblade. I've saturated it with my unique Force energy. A Sith will get an unpleasant surprise, picking it up. A Jedi will get a warning. It's mine, so deeply." She eyed him, handing him the weapon for a moment.

"Heavy. But lighter than I was expecting."

She called it back to her hand. "That's because of the Force. Without the Force, it would be a strong weapon, but not as strong as it is. The thickest part is hollow so I can throw it farther. The Force makes up for the lost heft."

"Huh."

"I'm going to get something to eat." She settled the discblade back in its sling. "You hungry?"

"Sure. Uh… aren't you going to change?"

Zara looked down, half-surprised to see herself in the dinner dress. The sleeves were torn, the skirt and top stained with soot, and the skirt itself torn at the knee. "Nah. I'm fine."

"You look like a prostitute." Bastila said pleasantly, walking up to us.

Zara grinned at her. "And unlike you, princess, I know how to wear it. I've done my round of dancing." She sauntered forward, chuckling at the frozen Bastila, who'd blushed scarlet. Zara had no doubt Carth was a similar shade.

Canderous, who appeared out of the garage, snorted. "You certainly know how to put them in their places."

She laughed. "I try. They gotta know who's on top."

His brows rose. "Ah."

"Not like that and you know it, Candy."

"I told you not to call me that."

Zara sniffed, stepping into the tiny galley. "And I'm ignoring you. I can do that." Her violet eyes glittered with mischief as she looked over her shoulder. "After all, you could almost call us friends. And I'd be willing to spar any day."

"Friends? That's stretching it. This is the third time we've met."

"We've made progress. I beat you up, we had a wild night, and now we've stolen a ship together. Friends."

"I owe you a beat down."

"You did beat me." She smirked. "Remember? And then you were so kind as to hold onto my discblade—did I congratulate you for being ingenious?"

"We were involved in other activities." He grinned. "I don't remember."

"Well, congrats, Ordo. It was very clever to jam my discblade in your basilisk's armor. You were just lucky my wan-shen had been broken to bits."

"Are you the Spinner?"

"Spinner?" Zara wrinkled her nose. "What kind of name is that?"

"I heard about a warrior who spun through the battlefield as fast as a Jedi and her axe stopped being an axe—it was a blur."

"Possibly." She ran her hands through her hair, pulling the last strands free of the elaborate updo it'd been pinned in. "Considering that Matukai-trained warriors are really, really rare—there's probably only twenty or thirty in the galaxy right now—it's most likely it was me." She smiled a little, regretfully. "My master contacted me shortly after I joined the war, counseling me to leave. He said there was darkness coming."

"And you didn't turn back."

"Sometimes," her eyes were a little dark, "you've gotta take things head-on. Sometimes, you gotta charge the darkness and batter it back." She took her bowl from the synthesizer, allowing Canderous to move in.

"You sound like a Mandalorian."

"My father was Mandalorian. Mom stuck around long enough to pick up a few things."

"Mandalorian? What clan?"

"That," she smirked, "is absolutely none of your business. But I'm not Ordo."

"Nixie?"

"My mother's name." Zara hesitated a moment before throwing him a bone. "My father's name was famous enough that most would have reacted… badly to me using it."

"How badly?"

"I wouldn't have been surprised if the Republic attempted to use me as a bargaining chip, ineffective as that strategy would be."

"You might have Mandalorian blood, but that doesn't make you Mandalorian."

She smiled. "Exactly. People just don't get that. I'm Zeison Sha by choice, not blood, and same with the Matukai." Her smile faded. "Though my master cut contact. I haven't been back to Yanibar since my mother died."

Canderous shrugged. "It's a little late now. After the war, I suppose."

"I'll get there." Zara sighed. "Someday, I'll get there." She laughed a little, a little bitterly, absently tracing her scars. "I wonder if they'll recognize me. It'll be sixteen years soon."

"That's a long time." Canderous eyed his bowl of glop. "How old were you?"

"I was fourteen when I left. I'm not quite thirty." She sighed an continued at the glop. "For two years, I traveled around, learning from my Matukai master. Then I made my wan-shen and struck out—really struck out."

"Wandering the galaxy alone at sixteen?" Canderous grinned. "_Mandokarla_."

"You think so highly of me."

He shrugged. "You're excellent in many ways."

"Flattery won't get you everywhere."

"Mandalorians don't believe in flattery."

Her eyes lit with amusement. "Praise doesn't get you everywhere either, even if it's honest."

"You're the one who escaped." He said.

"I used my resources to secure my exit." She retorted haughtily. "It was fun."

"I have a feeling the Jedi won't like you very much."

She snorted. "The ones I met in the war didn't like me, either. They're apparently used to a proper amount of awe."

"Which you don't give anyone."

"Exactly." Zara swallowed the last of the synth goop and dropped the bowl in the autowasher.  
>"I don't do awe." She stood up and stepped forward. "Now I've got to get this soot off me. It's making my legs itch like crazy."<p>

She almost smacked into Bastila.

"Were you eavesdropping or something?"

The Jedi girl colored brightly. Zara could sense Carth, in the cockpit, no doubt watching over things. "I suppose you could say I was paying attention."

"Hope I didn't scandalize you too bad." Zara muttered sarcastically.

"I was simply curious. I have a feeling we will be traveling together."

Zara pondered a moment. "Okay. I'm a Zeison Sha and have trained under the Matukai. I sleep with the enemy if he looks good enough. I am a former smuggler—a damn good one—and a former soldier. Also a good one." Her eyes met Bastila's light blue. "And I'm not afraid to fight dirty."

She moved past Bastila, stepping into the refresher and locking the door behind her.

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><p><strong>Is it so terribly difficult to get a few reviews?<strong>


	13. Interlude: Sensing

**Chapter 13 already. Nice, isn't it?**

**And yes, I'm keeping something of _Identity_'s format. I feel like having Malak's perspective made some things fit a little better for me. However, I will be doing it somewhat differently. Zara is the point on which the story turns and she's a little different.**

**Disclaimer: I didn't get KOTOR for Christmas. I put it on my list, and I sure didn't get it. Not even from Santa.**

* * *

><p>Malak watched from the bridge, his eyes narrowed at the ship that had just rocketed into hyperspace. Bastila was gone, by now, as were the companions who'd spirited her away. He fought down the urge to kill something.<p>

Revan had always told him to keep his temper. Now that Revan was gone, Malak supposed he could see the truth of that wisdom.

But now… now he wasn't sure just how gone Revan was. That ship had borne a far too familiar presence, but it could have been a coincidence. What possible reason, at any rate, would the Jedi have to save their enemy?

"Lord Malak, the planet is in ruins."

"Search for survivors." His vocabulator produced a menacingly raspy voice. "And bring them to me."

Perhaps his… fit of pique with ineffectiveness of his previous tactics on locating Bastila had been rather detrimental. After all, if there weren't any survivors, he wouldn't know what ship had escaped the planet. And he needed to know the ship so he could properly hunt them down.

He wanted Bastila alive and he wanted the heads of the rest of the crew, whoever they were.


	14. The Jedi Enclave

**Chapter 14 already. Nice, isn't it? You've gotten, like, nine or ten chapters over the past two weeks. Though, I will admit that one of them is on the short side.**

**Disclaimer: I didn't get KOTOR for Christmas. I put it on my list, and I sure didn't get it. Not even from Santa.**

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><p>Zara found herself at odds—she could say with some certainty that Jedi were <em>not<em> her favorite people, but the enclave was so peaceful she couldn't help relaxing.

Not that she slacked—she had started training Mission. The girl was good with a blaster, but all other parts of her fighting education had been woefully neglected. She'd also purchased enough materials from the store at the enclave landing bays to start constructing a new wan-shen, which Mission watched her do with curiosity. Carth and Canderous were more restrained in their curiosity and admiration.

Going now?"

"Zara? Are we starting?"

"Yeah. Let's hit the plains today." Zara smiled at the teen. Carth, Canderous, and Zaalbar were as Force-sensitive as a couple of rocks, but Mission had a flicker. It wasn't a flicker equal to even the weakest of the Jedi children who sometimes watched them practice, but that was the Matukai style. Matukai rarely worked with powerful Force users.

"How are we getting out there?"

Zara grinned. "Go get your quarterstaff. I found an exit yesterday."

Mission darted off, Canderous moving in. "There's a way out of here?"

She chuckled at the Mandalorian. "You don't think the Jedi let the merchants drag their shipments through the enclave, do you?"

He stifled a snort. "I doubt it."

"There's a service entrance. Cleverly hidden, I suppose, but not clever enough for my eyes."

"I'm coming with."

Zara smiled at him. "As long as you don't run off and leave me all alone with Sir Republic and the Jedi princess."

"I wouldn't dream of it." The reciprocating grin was almost ferocious. "I don't want to miss the adventure you'll lead us on."

"Me? Lead?" She laughed. "Now why would I lead?"

His durasteel gray eyes narrowed. "Because you are the one who commanded on Taris."

"Hmm." She shrugged, watching the ramp. "I didn't lead so much as take care of things myself."

Canderous shrugged. "Whatever you want to think."

Mission came back down the ramp, spinning the quarterstaff Zara had shaped from a bit of expensive wood that had been in the cargo hold. It had probably been intended as paneling or something.

"Brought yours, too!" The teen chirped, tossing Zara a similar length of wood.

"Sticks?"

"Hey, you've seen me handle fight. You think I can't do serious damage with a stick?" She challenged.

"Nothing's better than a blaster."

"Whatever." Zara rolled her eyes. "Exit is thissaway." She walked behind the _Hawk_'s ramp, beelining for the wall. She placed her hand on it, unlocking the Force lock. The door slid open smoothly, closing behind them.

"What kind of door is that?" Mission asked.

"Force-lock. The intent is that the Jedi can make sure they know who's going in and out, but considering the state of the galaxy, they should probably rethink the design."

Mission giggled. "Probably. So, how far out are we going to go?"

"I heard some Jedi gossiping about a meditation grove that's nice this time of year. A paved courtyard for training and a fountain."

"How far?"

Zara shrugged. "Not sure. But it'll be far enough away that the Jedi won't bother us." Her eyes flicked to Cnaderous. "And we can scare them away with the big, bad Mandie if we need to."

"Well, I'm glad I brought my blaster, then."

"Good." Zara smiled. "I've heard there are some _dar'manda_ and some nasty kath hounds on the plains."

"What's a _dar'manda_?" Mission asked.

Canderous growled. "Mandalorians who have lost their honor by disobeying Revan's edicts. Death is a mercy for them." His gaze turned to Zara. "Who explained that to you?"

Zara frowned a little. "My half-siblings."

"What are their names?"

"Rachel and Mereel." That came quickly, at least. Her frown deepened. They were part of the wrong in her memory, though she knew the names were right. She had a feeling that if she remembered exactly how she had met them, she would know why her memory was wrong. "They're Mandalorian. Full Mandalorian, I mean, in the sense that they were fighting in the wars." Her eyes narrowed. "I can sense my memory is wrong," she hissed with frustration, "but I don't know what's wrong!"

"It'll come to you." Mission smiled.

Zara nodded. "Of course it will. Let's jog. You're in good shape, Mish, but it's not quite up to Matukai standards."

"What are Matukai standards?"

"Very, very high."

* * *

><p>"I thought you said this grove was deserted!" Mission yelled.<p>

Zara was hard-pressed to defend herself from the Cathar's lightsaber. Mostly because of the inherent ability of a lightsaber to cut off limbs and slice through durasteel. Her discblade, the weapon she could use, called for closer quarters than the Cathar was giving her.

"I thought it was!" Zara snapped, calling her staff to her hand and swinging it. The Cathar Jedi—darkish Jedi, she supposed—didn't move out of the way fast enough and took a blow to the head that knocked her to her knees.

Zara dropped the staff and called the lightsaber to her hand, igniting the red blade.

The Cathar rose to sit on her heels, amber eyes dull. "Kill me."

"What?" Zara blinked at the woman incredulously. The darkness drawn around the Cathar was frantic, laden with guilt.

"You were sent here to kill me, were you not?" The amber eyes blinked.

"No." She paused a moment. "The Jedi Council sent me to speak to you. What happened was not your fault and your guilt and anger are misplaced."

"I struck down my master in a fit of rage." The woman said solemnly. "That is entirely my fault."

Zara shut off the lightsaber. "Your master knew what she was doing." She knew she was going out on a limb, here, but her training had taught her to pull people out of darkness. "A master always knows there is risk when taking a student. And I doubt she would want you here, trying to convince yourself that you are evil. No one is evil—it is a choice."

"And the Jedi would accept me back?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" Zara asked. "Show them that you are calm and remorseful, that your passion has been contained. The Jedi are all about redemption."

The Cathar gazed at her for several long moments before rising to her feet. "You are correct, Knight."

"Oh, uh, I'm not a knight. Just call me Zara." She stuck the saber in her belt, discblade on her back, and patted the Cathar's shoulder. "So, uh, why don't you head back?"

The Cathar nodded once and loped off.

"What was that?" Canderous asked.

"Me helping someone who needed help." Zara smiled a lolittle. "I'm also putting myself in the Jedi's good books. They can't have been too happy about having their very own how-bad-we-can-be exhibit on a planet with an enclave. Bad press and stuff." She picked up her quarterstaff. "Ready to train, Mission?"

* * *

><p><em>"We can never go back."<em>

_I was never going back, but he didn't know that._

_"Are you sure this is wise?"_

_I turned my head, looking at him through the slit in the mask. "The wisdom of our actions does not matter." A lie, since they mattered more than he would ever know. "And we could never go back the moment we joined the war." With that sharp admonition, I opened the door._

_A simple Force lock. _

_The door grated open, stone rasping against stone, reminiscent of my voice. The darkness of the room beyond seemed fitting, I supposed. Soon, everyone would know and we would no longer be heroes. My mask would be the face of fear, not courageous inspiration. _

_Well, they would thank me later for saving them._

* * *

><p><strong>Be fantastic readers and give me a review or two, even if it's just to point out an inconsistency!<strong>


	15. The Bond

**Chapter 15.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own KOTOR. Don't look so surprised.**

**And yes, I know that I've been gone for forever and a day. I'm making up for it, huh? I hope to be sending in a couple new chapters before I start college again. I do plan to finish this story, but it could be awhile.**

**KKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK**

"Zara Nixie."

"Something wrong with that?" The woman in question snapped to the Jedi master Vrook. Her challenging tone was unmistakable. "And I've got better things to do then have you stare at me like a creep."

The Jedi jerked his head back. "Arrogant child!"

"I'm thirty years old." She retorted. "And if this is about my dream, get to the point already. If not, get my ship fueled up so I can get off this deathtrap."

"Deathtrap?"

She snorted. "You think Malak doesn't know where you are? Fools." The disdain was almost palpable. "He's got spies, same as anyone, and I doubt it would be too hard to destroy this little spot from orbit. He might miss a bit, but he'd hit you sooner or later. After all, he reduced Taris and Telos to ashes just the same way. He wouldn't hesitate."

There were a number of solemn glares.

"It's good strategy." She shrugged. "No loss on his side. Only loss on yours. And if this place is crispy black rubble, there's a pretty low survival rate, if there is one. I'd start sending stuff to Coruscant. Safer there. Malak doesn't have the power to get that far, probably won't ever."

"Why do you say that?"

"I did some spying for the Republic." She grimaced. "Malak kills people who disappoint him, even if the disappointment was inevitable. He's killing off the people who can make strategy. Makes the troops afraid. They'll start deserting for either the Republic or another Sith who they think can take on Malak."

"How long were you a spy?"

Her smile was very grim. "Long enough to know that if Revan were still alive, he would have gotten to the Core long ago. He was smart, saving the infrastructure of the Republic without being overly oppressive. He was charismatic enough that people liked him, even if he had just taken over their world." She snorted a little laugh. "And I got close to him once—a little too close for my taste. He was so powerful… but not so dark. Ambivalent, I'd say, walking a line. A man with a mission. And he let me walk past him, I know he did."

The Jedi masters passed each other a look that went unnoticed by her. "Revan was ever strong." Vandar said croakily.

"So, my dream?"

"You shared it with Bastila, who told us about it in great detail."

"Since when do I share dreams with her?" Zara jerked her head at the Jedi standing in the corner. "Last I checked, there weren't any bonds in my head. Not strong enough to dream-share and I know that takes a helluva bond. Those don't spring up overnight." Her eyes narrowed as she delved into her head, finding a thick silver cord that connected to Bastila. She could have sworn it hadn't been there before.

"It is the will of the Force, I suppose."

"Pfft." She crossed her arms over her chest. "What aren't you telling me?"

"You need training."

Zara could handle a diversion. She rocked back on her heels. "You think the Matukai allow the ways of darkness to be taught? The dark side corrupts the purity of the body, old man. The only 'training' I would need is how to make a lightsaber, which I don't care about. I can pick one up easily enough." She threw a hilt, the Cathar's, across the room. Two more skidded next to it. "I'd like to leave now."

"To investigate the ruins?"

"I don't give a damn." That wasn't the exact truth.

"It could mean saving the galaxy!" Bastila exploded. "Surely you cannot turn away from a chance to save the helpless from Malak's regime of brutality?"

"Regimes fall." Zara said. "And new ones rise. Happens on the Outer Rim all the time."

"You want more Tarises? More Teloses?"

Zara sighed. "Not really, I guess. So, when do we head for the ruins? The sooner we start this little save-the-galaxy quest, the more galaxy there is to save."

"You will—"

"I've got a crew, you old fart." Zara snapped at Vrook. "Bastila's the only 'addition' you're giving me." A smirk played at her lips. "Maybe we shared the dream, bucko, but I'm the one it originated in, unless I miss my guess. I'm helping because I feel like it, not because I'm yours to command."

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"Seriously creepy, here." Mission looked around the tomb with wide eyes. "Feels icky."

"That's the corruption of the dark side." Zara said. "A Matukai can be neutral, or gray, but this is darkness. It's a decay that slowly destroys your body and sometimes your mind. Stay away from it. A Matukai must remain pure in mind and body."

"Why so many dark Jedi, then?"

"The Matukai are not like the Jedi. Matukai can have family, relationships. Jedi cut themselves off from everything but the Jedi. Yes, it makes them a strong organization, a force to reckoned with, but it also leaves some obvious fracture points. There is no one right way, not really. All I can really say is that Jedi and Sith are extremists."

"Jedi are not extremists." Bastila snapped haughtily.

"Sure, princess." Zara rolled her eyes. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

The central chamber was massive and reeked of rust and mold. A tall, spidery droid made Zara stop, mouth setting into a thin line as her memory tugged.

It spoke, some language she almost recognized.

"We can't understand you." Bastila said.

Zara didn't recognize the next language at all. "Not that, either." She told the droid.

The third language, liquidious and sinuous, Zara knew. "Selkath works." She wasn't sure how she knew that the droid understood her—that didn't really make sense—but she knew it did.

"_I can reproduce the languages of any of the slave species of the Rakatan Empire._" The droid said. "_You are like the ones who came before, not slave or Rakatan._"

Zara's lips pressed into a thin line as she felt Bastila through the bond, the woman tight-stretched and anxious, almost fearful as something below the bond struggled weakly. She wanted to hiss in irritation.

The Jedi were keeping something from her.

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"So this is a star map." Zara murmured, circling the thing that reminded her a little too much of a poisonous flower. Three prongs of black metal had bent back to reveal some kind of stone that threw out blue, green, and gold light and formed a massive map. She could see corrupted pathways, centered around one particular area.

"Korriban, Kashyyyk, Manaan, and Tatooine." Bastila murmured.

"Reference points, I bet." Mission muttered.

"We'll have to go to those planets." Zara said with absolute certainty. "This data won't get us anywhere. We'll probably find more maps on those planets." She jabbed at the map. "They've got all sorts of other planets and stars marked, but those four are the important ones."

"Yes." Bastila chewed her lip. "We'll have to talk with the masters."

"No. We'll tell them that we're gonna need money and supplies if we're gonna be hopping around the galaxy. Then we pull some basics on our four planets and go. The sooner we save this galaxy, the sooner the Jedi can leave me alone."

Mission grinned. "And the sooner it's just you, me, and Big Z!"

Zara gave her shoulder a fond squeeze. "Yeah, exactly. You two and me. I'll show you the best bars on the rim… maybe we'll get Canderous to tag along for that adventure."

"So you like Canderous?"

Zara shrugged. "What's not to like? He's a warrior in his prime with nice, beefy muscles. And when Mandalorians aren't trying to take over the galaxy, I'm actually quite fond of them. Good drinking buddies."

Mission narrowed her eyes a little. "Didn't you mention something about siblings?"

"I'm half Mandalorian by blood, not that it means anything to the Mandalorians. My half-siblings fought in the wars. I didn't meet them in battle, though."

"Which side of the wars?"

"They're Mandalorian through and through." Zara flicked her braid over her shoulder. "But they stuck by me when I got out of the wars. Only left in the last year or so, pulling a big job. We're s'posed to meet up sometime soon, but I don't think that's happening. My _Black Jade_ got blown to bits and so did the communicator."

"Really?" Bastila asked.

Zara flicked her purple eyes to the Jedi woman. "It is, of course, a possibility that we'll meet them somewhere. Tatooine is a popular spot with Mandalorians and smugglers. A den of villainy and treachery, one might say. Korriban is also a smuggler's haven, but nobody stays there a minute longer than they have to." She felt both gratified and worried by the flicker of alarm in the woman's eyes.

What, exactly, did Bastila have to worry about?


End file.
